


Aeipathy

by dearren



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide mention, panic disorder, the other gladers are also there though, those four are the most important ones, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 15,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearren/pseuds/dearren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alby would have never guessed to meet someone as beautiful and as fragile as Newt. It isn't love at first sight but the way they orbit around each other tells a different story. Because, frankly, if he were to chose between the boy and the air he was breathing, he knew his answer would be Newt. Newt, like it was the answer to everything else in Alby's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "[noun] continued passion; an unyielding disease."
> 
> \----------
> 
> Warnings will be updated for each chapter! Please tell me if you need me to warn about certain things!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for  
> referenced self harm

The boy had eyes like the night sky and blond hair and gauze bandaging around his wrists.

It had been a month of just Albert, Michael, George, Minho, Winston and a few others. All of them had found themselves, memories wiped, stranded in a wide rectangular piece of land surrounded by menacing, grey stone walls.

Crops and cattle, a wooden house and the big question. Why.

And now, a month later, the mysterious box that they had arrived in and that provided them with food and clothes and the same, a new boy arrived.

His eyes were red from crying and his skinny frame was trembling and within Albert arose the sudden urge to protect the kid. He looked incredibly young with his pale face but he was supposedly the same age as the other boys.

"Welcome to the glade, newbie" George greeted and Albert envied how nonchalantly the other spoke while he himself was so dumbstruck by the sudden arrival of the stranger and the inexplicable connection he felt.

The blond boy took George’s hand and climbed out of the box then. He was taller than Albert, he noticed. While Minho, Winston and Michael began to unload the other cargo from the box, careful for any other surprises, George guided the newbie over to Albert, talking to him in a hushed whisper.

He was still shaking badly and Albert couldn’t help but to calmingly place his hand on he boy’s shoulder as he said: “Hey there, shank. I’m Albert.”

"Can ya remember your name, kid?" George asked.

The boy stilled for a second, seemingly shocked and his eyes went clouded but then he said in a coaxed voice: “Newton.”

Something in the strange way his accent curled on his tongue triggered a genuine smile within Albert. 

Newton didn’t smile back.

He was told to show the boy around but he asked for somewhere to be alone instead so he brought him to one of the many spare rooms in the homestead. 

It felt wrong leaving the pale boy alone but he shrugged it off and went to help the others unloading the supplies.

——————

A few hours later, Winston and Albert were preparing dinner in the kitchen, Newton stood in the doorframe. Albert winced as he saw how miserable the boy looked.

"Hey Newton, ya wanna join? We could really use your help, to be honest. Winston here’s not exactly a virtuoso chef."

Newton grimaced a smile and walked over to them, Albert noticed he smelled of sick and he felt unbearably sorry for him.

He silenced Winston, undoubtedly going to rudely comment on it, with an authorial look. 

Newton nodded at him, thankfully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for
> 
> Referenced self harm  
> Referenced suicide (attempt/thoughts)  
> Referenced depression
> 
> \--
> 
> Warnings will be updated for each chapter! Please tell me if you need me to warn about certain things!

When Galileo arrived a month later, Newton became Newt because he said he remembered Newton having been a scientist but Newt could be entirely his. Albert thought it was a grand idea. Newt had a really beautiful mind.

Galileo, insisting on being called Gally, was the one to first openly question what was beyond the giant walls and the doors that opened and closed every day a new.

The next day, Minho, Gally and Newt slipped beyond the gates and found a labyrinth unravel before them.

"It is huge" Gally recalled later that day when the boys were sat in what they chose to be the conference room of the homestead. A long room where they had moved a few tables and chairs in.

"Uncountable corridors" he continued, the others listening in awe. "That’s gotta be the way out, I’m telling y’all."

Uncertainty lingered before Newt and Minho both expressed their support. George decided that the three of them would go back into the labyrinth for two whole hours the next day.

——————

Two hours became four and four became five and five became seven and soon the boys went with the rising sun and returned with the gates slamming shut behind them.

Albert wouldn’t admit it but everyday he worried for Newt to get lost in the seemingly endless structure.

The two of them had grown quite close and after the initial shock had worn off, Newt had revealed to be quite the opposite to the shaking, helpless boy.

He was sarcastic and witty but other than Minho there were no sharp edges to his jokes. He was brave enough to soon walk the maze on his own while Minho and Gally stuck together.

He was clever and smart noticing first that the walls apparently moved, changing the maze completely every night.

He was lovely and caring and made Albert’s heart feel much warmer just by existing around him. Like the sun and the earth.

——————

The boys all the while began to expect newbies every month and after Ben came Sigmund – Siggy, y'all – and Jeff and Zart.

Ben was hysterical, but it was different to Newt. He cried and weeped for two days straight and only ever let Gally come anywhere near him.

Siggy was strangely calm, asking if he could help almost right after he’d climbed out of the box.

Jeff locked himself in a room in the homestead for a few hours then he seemed okay, yet very silent.

Zart came together with a dog that wouldn’t leave his side and it was nice to look at and helped the boy take it all in real quick. They called it Bark.

—————-

It was the morning after Siggy had been declared official cook because the omelettes he’d made had seriously been magic, when Albert awoke in the room he, due to the many newcomers, now shared with Newt.

The tall guy was still aslep but soon rolled over to greet Albert with a bright grin that had seemed impossible mere months prior. Their strange familiarity had over time involved into friendship. It wasn't an uncommon sight for Albert to be the last to be said goodbye to and the first to greeted in the evening by Newt after a long day in the labyrinth with the Runners - as they now called themselves.

"Mornin’" Albert said as the other rolled around, yawning.

"Heya, Alby."

At some point, Newt had begun to call him Alby.

He didn’t mind. It was nice having found such a good friend in the blond.

"Prepared to run the maze?"

"Prepared for a nice breakfast, first" Newt joked, stretching his arms and back in the dull orange sunlight falling in through the window.

He still had the gauze around his wrists. Neither of the boys had addressed it or even really taken notice of it but silently, Alby had a theory. He was proven right when merely twenty four hours later he found Newt in the forest, crying and sobbing hysterically, the gauze scattered around him, revealing what terrible things he had done to himself in a past life before the glade.

He’d never know what had caused the sudden breakdown of his best friend. It might have been a comment of Gally’s, wrong place, wrong time. Maybe a thought had crossed Newt’s mind or a trace of a memory.

Alby too had those dream-like backflashes from time to time. Ordinary things, mostly, like a feeling of happiness and a face so blurred and yet so familiar that it was frustrating. He wondered what Newt must’ve seen to get him into such a bad shape.

Alby sat with him for a few hours, missing the departure of the Runners and the scheduled lunch and returning to their room shortly before Minho and Ben, as Gally had instead taken over the management of adding to the homestead if more boys would arrive in the next months, came back from their run.

——————

It was three months later when they saw their first Griever – named by Gally because “it has a nice, gloomy ring to it, right?”.

The inhumane slug-machine-hybrid that howled and clicked and rolled and terrorized them in their nightmares as well as their waking hours.

They called the silver lizard things Beetleblades and Siggy’s nickname Frypan stuck as well as Alby's and the boy felt nostalgic for the times only Newt had called him that.

Everything began to click into place and about approximately a year after the first five of them had found themselves scattered around a strange box in a strange place they had everything organized and running smoothly. Builders, Slicers, Runners, Med-Jacks, a cook, Keepers, everything seemed to be well.

Almost. 

Because Newt’s stars seemed to fall out of constellation more and more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for
> 
> Death

George was stung by a Griever. 

Minho and Ben carried the boy that had fallen unconscious and heavy in their arms out of the Maze.

Newt had arrived about ten minutes earlier, alarming the Med-jacks and assembling the other boys to help and his last stop was Alby who’d been napping in their room. 

George had practically been their leader from the very beginning and in the last few months as the amount of boys had increased and so had responsibility, Alby had slowly evolved to be his second in command which was both flattering and really tiring.

When Newt stormed in, hair a mess and breathing raggedly, Alby didn’t wake up immediately, having stayed up until almost sunrise conferencing with the Keepers nd arguing - mostly with Gally.

"Alby! Alby! Alby, come on wake up, wake bloody up, George’s injured."

Three or four times Newt had to repeat the news and also shake the other by his shoulder. When he finally bolted awake, he heard the tumult outside wavering in through the open window accompanied by the most horrifying dehumanised scream that Alby had ever heard.

Sick to the stomach with worry, he followed Newt to the hospice where the screeching came from. Inside, Clint and Jeff were holding George to the bed, all three slick with sweat, Minho leaning against the wall opposite to the door, frozen in terror.

Their leader was throwing his arms and legs in uncontrolled spasms, screaming with a breaking voice like he was being burned alive. His skin was pale and obnixious blue and violet veins snaked across it. Pulsing.

"I think I’m gonna throw up" Alby exclaimed, his insides revolting.

George’s eyes seemed close to exploding, red and teary and glazed over. Newt put a hand on Alby’s shoulder and despite it all tiny galaxies rotated inside Alby’s mind when he looked at his friend’s worried yet comforting face.

"You gonna be alright?" It was half a question half a statement and Alby nodded, straightening his back.

"Yeah."

He took a step towards the bed, the self-announced medicals obviously relieved that he’d come to assist them.

He didn’t notice Newt leave. Minho must have followed shortly after.

——————

The screaming died out three and a half days later, when George took a few more gurgled breaths, throat hoarse and hair damp, eyes wide with terror.

His last words were lost in it all.

He died and no one was sure what he had tried to say to them, in the end. Something about “remembering”.

They’d never know for sure.

With the next cargo came syringes filled with liquid. A note attached to them. “Griever Serum”.

Alby had nightmares about his friend’s screams for the next two weeks. 

\------------

It was Michael's idea to do the wall. 

“No one should ever be forgotten. Not ever.” 

He chiselled his name into the grey stone. 

The other boys stood around him, watching, waiting. Alby stood next to Newt and Minho, being handed the hammer and chisel the next.

When they were all finished, the sky was beginning to darken. The final name was George's, put up next to Gally's by Michael only to be crossed out right after. 

Silently, they agreed that that would be how they would handle deaths from now on. Leaving a reminder, something to remember them by. Michael turned away before anyone could see him cry but Alby knew.

——————

The Runners returned too early to their job, for Alby’s liking.

Especially with Newt's self-destructive tendencies, that had him worried about the blond boy nearly every second of every day, yet he didn't dare to tell him to stay.

He knew, Newt wanted to get out of that place as much as all of them, maybe more. To have him stay behind, while Minho, Ben and the others might do just that, find a way out, would be selfish and Alby knew that.

Still, he couldn't help but wish for the boy's safe return every day he saw him slip inside the giant Maze.

He didn't keep his discomfort a secret and told Newt repeatedly to “stay safe” and “return whole” and “don't let any shucking Grievers get ya”.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for
> 
> Swearing (not Glader slang, but actual swear words)  
> Implied depression  
> Referenced/implied self harm

A few weeks after the incident, Newt didn't depart with the other Runners. Alby was at his bedside immediately, fussing over him, worrying his lip and tumbling over his own words. But Newt just turned to him, a soft smile on his chapped lips.

“It's fine, Alby. I must've caught a bloody cold last night, that's it.”

“I told ya not to sneak out at night, slinthead.” His sarcasm couldn't yet outweigh his worry and Newt chuckled under his breath, sending little sparks over Alby's skin with the sound of it.

“Shuck, just get some cough syrup from Clint or somethin'. I'll be fine” Newt said, stubbornly refusing Alby to stay in their room any longer. With George dead, Alby felt the weight on responsibility on his shoulders.

The others helped him where they could but in the end, they were just teenage boys, needing someone to lead them through every day under the exact same shade of blue sky and the exact same temperature air and the exact same work.

“Okay, then. I'll have someone check on ya soon. Call, if ya need anythin'.”

With a weary smile, Newt shushed him away and Alby left, even though it felt strange. 

But his best friend was right, the Gladers, as they had started to call themselves, needed him. Newt could handle a common cold.

\------

It wasn't a cold. 

“A cold wouldn't last longer than a week, Alby, ya know that” Jeff whispered to the boy, when they had closed the door behind them. They'd taken Newt downstairs to the hospice.

“What's wrong with him, then, shuckface” the leader barked, feeling his heart flutter and the familiar pang of pain and worry. He was restlessly drumming his fingers against his legs.

“I dunno, man. He seems okay, physically. I think, like … I dunno, like he doesn't wanna get better?”

They'd renewed the gauze around his wrists. They knew. The med-jacks knew and Alby felt terrible, like his blood was burning, as it rushed through his body. 

“You better talk to him, Alby. He can't stay like this, the other shanks are not gonna stop asking questions and they'll start demandin' actual answers, too.”

“I know, I know.”

Jeff nodded courtly, turning to leave, giving Alby the space and time he desperately needed to collect his thoughts, before he entered the hospice. The smell of disinfectant lay in the air. 

Through the windows flooded yellow light, dust dancing in the streams. 

Newt was napping in the bed right under one of them, his blond hair looking like liquid gold and Alby's insides were being turned into stardust.

He walked over, hesitantly, before kneeling down before his friend. He had his back to him, his sides raising and falling in a slow pace. Watching him breathe helped calm Alby. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder, having him tense under the touch, moaning softly, turning around, eyes still closed.

“Heya, Alby” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, opening heavy lidded, dark eyes.  
His face was so close.

“What the shuck, Newt.”

No answer, just a flicker, a hint of guilt on Newt's face. Alby continued.

“Whatcha think you're doin' here? I'm worried sick, shank. Med-jacks say you're fine.”

“I am.”

“Then why're you still here pretendin' to be sick, I don't get it.”

Apparently unconsciously, Newt's hand reached down to his wrist, absently scratching the skin on his wrist, right above the gauze bandaging.

“You never brought me that cough syrup.”

“Shuck” Alby huffed out, hilariously angered. 

It felt like galaxies turning and churning in his head, making him dizzy. The whole situation was overwhelming. He had to close his eyes, the sunlight suddenly seeming violent and too bright.

“I'm sorry, Alby. See, I just … Look, I'm gonna be back to runnin' tomorrow, okay? If you want that, I can do that. Just give me the word.”

His voice soundes strange, off and distant through Alby's closed eyes. He imagined a little blond boy, maybe five or six, in front of him, crying, not knowing what to do.

He opened his eyes.

“Okay. Good that.”

Alby just couldn't wrap his head around the conversation and why Newt was suddenly smiling sadly at him. Why he didn't leave but rather slept on the cold wooden floor instead of his own bed, he knew though.

\------

The next one was Mozart, a tall, dark-skinned guy. He seemed like every other of the boys yet half a week later, they found him beating up Zart for “fucking always tryin' to tell me what to do, asshole”. 

They tied his hands together and finally used the holding cell that Michael had discovered in one of the darkest corners of the Glade, a few days after their arrival. A cubical concrete building with a barred window.

Alby had hoped that it would never have to be occupied.

Newt, arriving with the rest of the Runners later that day, was the first to approach Alby after the boy's imprisonment.

Alby had been waiting for his return, the urgent need to talk to his best friend about what had happened driving him nervous and irritable.

“What're we gonna do 'bout that shank?” asked Newt, after Alby had finished recalling the story.

“I dunno. We can't very well have him stay in the slammer forever, now, can we?”

“Yeah, probably not.”

They stood in silence, leaned against the Maze wall, close enough for their arms to brush together as they rested their heads in the thick, green ivy.

“There have to be rules for this, Al” Newt said, suddenly. It was twilight, yellow and pink and orange and beautiful and Alby shivered.

“I know.”

“The more boys the buggin' Box's gonna send up, the more troublemaker's there'll be.”

“I said, I know. I'm gonna make up some klunk.”

“Okay” Newt said, sounding a little hurt at Alby's harshness and so the other just took his hand, sending a rustle through the ivy leaves.

“Give me until tomorrow evening. We'll have a council meetin', just the Keepers, deciding on the rules and what we're gonna do with Mozart.”

Newt squeezed his hand and as he said “okay” again, it sounded more proud than hurt and Alby was thankful for the silence they shared then, watching the sky turn dark around them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for
> 
> Implied death  
> Implied mental health issues  
> Implied death wish/suicide

The walls slammed shut with a finality, that sent a tremble through Alby's bones. The other boys were still standing in half a circle. 

“Let this” Alby raised his voice, surprised by how steady he sounded despite the doubt clouding his vision. “Make it clear once and for all: Don't harm another Glader. Do your share. Don't go into the Maze. Simple as that. Ya break the rules, ya can fight it out with the Grievers, good that?”

Muffled sounds of agreement, blinking in and out here and there around him. Minho nodded, crossing his arms. Gally grunted something along the lines of “about time” and Ben did his best to not look devastated. But the only one who's reaction Alby really needed to see was Newt's.

As he turned to his right, he saw his best friend dipping his head, reassuringly. Later he would wrap his arms around Alby who would begin to cry as soon as the door would fall shut behind them.

“It's alright, Al” Newt said, directing the other to his bed. Alby couldn't see through his tears, he felt like drowning in them. It was an impeccable pain that he would wish no one to feel. The pain of having sent a boy to his inevitable death.

He felt so young and incapable of all that responsibility.

“You're gonna manage, okay? You're gonna be okay, y'always are.”

When Alby finally stopped crying, he was lying on his back, staring up at Newt, who was sitting by his feet.

“You did the right thing, there, ya know? Mozart was buggin' mental. I'm tellin' ya, if Michael and Ben would've been a few seconds late, who knows, man.”

Alby still felt a little sick but Newt's words were beginning to ease his thoughts and wash away the guilt. He'd said himself, the Gladers needed order. A leader. Rules. And they had to be punished, if they didn't follow those. Simple as that. Simple was good.

“I'm tired” Alby said, his voice hoarse and Newt went over to his own bed and Alby wished he didn't.

\------

Delirious. That was probably the proper word for Newt. Oblivious, maybe.

And Alby was angry.

Still wound up in his own problems desperately needing the blond to help him for a change, Newt suddenly turned away from him again. It was like when he had been pretending to be sick, or hiding in the Deadheads all those months ago.

It wasn't as obvious, though. He still ran the Maze everyday, came to breakfast and joined his fellow Gladers at lunch or when they lit a campfire. And he laughed and joked with them. 

But Alby knew his best friend. He knew Newt way too well that he felt the change like a chill running down his spine before he could see it.

He saw how lifeless Newt's eyes looked when he smiled. How dull his skin seemed and how pointless his words pondered around conversations.

And he was so angry about it because the boy just didn't talk to him. 

And he was angry that the Creators had put the broken boy in this hostile place. 

And he was angry that they ignored the notes he sent them. 

“Take him back” and “he doesn't belong here” and “at least give me some shucking meds for the poor shank”. Nothing. 

He was so angry about being ignored by everyone.

\------

About a week or so later, Alby let it happen, then, when the Runners returned, panting and sweating, he took Newt by the hand and snatched him away. He didn't care about Minho protesting. The Map Room could wait. They had the Greenie, Neil, now. They wouldn't need Newt as much just then as Newt needed Alby.

“Shuck, Alby, what's the buggin' matter?” Newt complained, though let Alby take him in the direction of the Slammer.

“Did I do somethin' wrong? Ya gonna throw me into prison for talkin' in my bloody sleep or what?”

“Shucking shut up, slinthead” Alby countered and as they reached the concrete building, he let go of the other's hand, his own tensing into fists.

“You've got one chance, only one, to tell me what's goin' on or I swear you're gonna sleep with the rats in the Slammer tonight.”

To Alby's surprise, Newt let out a laugh that sounded so surreal and wrong, that he felt like having been punched. Newt's face screwed up.

“You're threatening me?” he laughed, his hands in the air in a gesture of pure mockery.

“I'm shucking tryin' to, yeah.”

“It's not doin' any good because there's nothin' to tell ya about.”

He looked him square in the eye, Newt stern and stubborn, Alby's pride and strictness crumbling away. 

“Okay, listen. You're my best friend and you can't hide from me. So don't even try it because I can see through that.”

“I'm not your best friend, Al.”

It was worse than any insult could have ever been. The stars that were now whitening the sky up above, seemed to watch, ruthlessly.

“Yes, you shuckin' are, shut up!” 

“No, you shut up! You have no idea, Al. Bein' my friend, it's bloody awful. I notice it makes ya angry. I notice ya don't sleep at night because ya shuckin' worry about me. I can't be as selfish as being your friend.”

The words turned into a whirlwind in Alby's head and he had problems following them.

“Yes, I am angry. I am always angry, shank. I am angry because the Creators put us here and probably watch us perish like some kind of laboratory rats.”

“But why are ya angry at me?”

Alby hadn't noticed that Newt was crying, but the boy's voice broke off at the end of his question and he furiously wiped at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He imagined it must've stung terribly, those tears and the sweat and sand from running the Maze.

“Because you don't seem to care enough about me to shuckin' tell me what's got ya so worked up.”

“I -” Newt hiccuped, a pathetic shadow of the challenging boy he'd been mere seconds ago.

“And don't tell me I didn't fetch ya that cough syrup again, because that was buggin' ridiculous.”

The other Gladers must've already went for lunch. Maybe they wondered where the two of them were. 

Maybe Minho had told them about sneaking away. Maybe they were theorising about it. Maybe they didn't care at all. 

Newt looked directly at Alby and he couldn't help but picture the little boy again. The first time, he'd thought it'd just been his imagination fuelled by worry and guilt but now he was almost certain, it had been a memory, resurfacing. 

The other boy took a step towards Alby, closing the space between them, so that they were left barely two feet apart. He almost felt Newt's warm breath on his face, saw tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

“I thought I'd never understand why I tried to kill myself. Whoever did that, that wasn't me anymore. Hell, my memory had been wiped clean enough for me to shucking forget about it? But now I do, Alby. I buggin' understand now. I understand that there's no other way out. That time I got sick? The day before that, I'd reached it. The bloody end of the bloody Maze. I'd seen every turn, already. Every corridor, every wall, every bit of every section of grey stone. I'd seen it all. It only took a few months and I'd ran it all. No exit. There's no hope and the only way out of this is to shucking die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be more Newt/Alby bickering in the future because I imagine with both of them being the leading type and both of them struggling and not being able to really talk about it and being impulsive and rough sometimes, there's bound to be some fights, right?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for
> 
> Implied depression

“Thanks, man” Newt said, sitting the empty bowl down on the floor. 

“No biggie.”

They sat together until the grinding sound of the walls shook the Homestead and Alby heard Newt huff out a shuddered breath.

“You don't have to run” Alby said, like he said every day.

“I have to. We gotta get out, remember?” He flashed Alby a sorry excuse for a smile. There was no way out.

But it was a routine. It worked.

“Why?” asked Alby, scooting a little closer.

“Because we have to get safe. We have to get them all safe. A real life. Happily ever after.”

“Alright. Be careful.”

“Slinthead.” Newt exited. Alby hadn't noticed him stand up. He still felt so close, he could smell and taste Newt in the air like tiny lights.

\------

Alby thought that Newt gotten better. 

He smiled again, genuine, bright, taking Alby's hand in the middle of the night.

“Come on, shuckface. Stargazin'.”

He would never have guessed. A nightmare, yes. But not something as ridiculously ordinary as stargazing.

They ran away from the Homestead, Newt giggling and Alby, having to be strict and serious all day around the Gladers, seemed to bloom in the boy's presence, laughing out loud in the darkness. 

Newt only stopped when they had reached the Deadheads, dark and tall in front of them, Alby panting heavily already. Only then, Newt let go of the other Glader's hand.

Before Alby could ask what the shuck had gotten into the boy, the blond turned around, kissing Alby on the cheek. A million stars prickled where Newt's lips touched his skin.

“Shut up, slinthead, don't ruin this, okay?” husked Newt, sneakily stealing the words away from the older boy.

“Okay.”

With that, Newt fell back against a tree, sinking down in the wet grass. 

He beamed up at Alby, waiting. 

As if he was moving in slow motion, like the air had turned to honey, he sat down next to his best friend. 

“See those stars?” Newt suddenly said, raising his hand towards the sky but Alby was too mesmerized by the other's face. 

The way his lips curled into a smile. The way his eyelashes caught the light of the moon in them. The way his blond hair stuck out behind his ears. 

“Shuck, Albert, look at the stars.”

“I should've brought ya that buggin' cough syrup.”

“What?” 

Newt probably just played dumb. Or he had really been watching the stars. Alby didn't ask. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest. Like a bird, trapped, trying to get out of his ribcage.

Painful yet fascinating.

“I didn't forget it. I was shuckin' angry, I don't even really remember why, anymore. It wasn't your fault and I should not have made it yours.”

“Alby, I said shut up.”

But he couldn't. His cheeks were burning.

“I gotta tell ya this, though. I was so scared, Newt. I am scared all the time, worrying about ya. And ya tell me not to and I do it and I can't help it. You mean the world to me. I can't lose ya.”

“Alby -”

“Promise me, Newt. Promise me that I won't have to lose ya. Ever.”

“Alby, I can't -” Newt said, helplessly, his long fingers pulling at the blue-green grass.

“Please. Just say it. I have to hear it.”

Hesitation. 

Silence, heavy on Alby's lungs. The honey was back in the air, sticking his tongue and teeth together making it hard to breathe. 

How he wished he'd known, then. How could he have been so blinded? By the light of the stars in the sky and in Newt's eyes and in Alby's heart. This overwhelming light surrounding them and everything they did.

In the middle of a heartbeat, Newt leaned forward and pressed his chapped lips on Alby's, knocking the air out of his lungs. 

Moonlight spilled into his body, white, cold light. He gave into it. 

Like a drowning man, he melted into the kiss, capturing Newt's lips, not ready to let go when Newt suddenly broke away. 

His face was flushed, his eyes had spilled over. Alby tasted salt. 

For a few more hours, Alby just held Newt in his arms as he cried, kissing the top of his head whispering praises and prayers alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favourite so far, I think. I love Newt/Alby talking in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for
> 
> blood  
> suicide (implied)

The following day, Newt didn't return with the other Runners. The following day, Alby almost blacked out when a bone-shattering high-pitched scream echoed through the Doors. The following day was almost their last day.

He should've known something was off. He should've known something was fundamentally wrong. Maybe he did know. Maybe he just didn't care.

Faint morning light had spread across the Glade, the departure of the Runners seconds away, standing, stretching their legs and arms, in front of the soon to be opening Doors. 

Alby, always almost as antsy and nervous as the rest of them, stood close to Newt. Close enough for their arms to almost brush. 

Newt smelled of soap and salt and grass and him and Alby remembered that way too clearly.

With a loud booming noise, the Doors started to grind over the stone floor and open the gateway into the deadly, dangerous, winding Maze.

Ben was the first to run in and Alby anticipated the moment he'd see Newt vanish with a bitter melancholy he was already used to.

But this time was different. Instead of running off with a court nod or a “see ya later, shuckface”, Newt turned towards him, grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him on the mouth.

The Runners probably stared at them, wondering but not really surprised and suddenly, chances and possibilities were crowding Alby's mind. Whole galaxies being build. 

He imagined him and Newt holding hands while walking the Glade. A peck on the lips before Newt would go to run, a hug when he'd return. 

Being as close to each other as they craved.

It should've struck him as wrong. So wrong. So wrong. He should've known.

Just as he was beginning to deepen the kiss, Newt broke away and before neither Alby nor any of the Runners could so much as blink, he was gone and his footsteps fainted in the dark hallways of the Maze.

He should have done something. Anything. But he didn't.

Because euphoria and hope were stronger than worry that one time. 

And then never again.

That sound. That heart wrenching sound that let stars die and fall into the abyss in Alby's chest. A wound so dark, ripped open by the scream.

Minho and Ben had gone back into the Maze to search for Newt but as he heard that terrifying sound pierce through his heart, the leader broke the rules he had established himself. He broke into a sprint and, ignoring Gally and Michael yelling at him, he ran into the Maze.

The sound of blood pounding in his ears, solely running on instinct and survival mode. 

He had no idea where he was after the fourth or fifth turn. The only thing that fuelled him was the idea of Newt, somewhere. In danger. In pain.

“Newt!” he screamed, his voice cracking. 

Tears stung in his eyes, his vision blurred out, he tripped, fell and came back to his feet. 

Alby was already out of breath. The Doors would close soon.

Only because he was certain that Michael could take his place as leader, he didn't have to feel guilty right then.

Dying alongside Newt was better than losing him because he'd been too scared. He couldn't lose Newt. 

He heard the rattle of Beetleblades in the ivy to his sides, saw their tiny right lights.

“You promised!” Alby yelled into the corridor, his feet slipping on the grey stone. He shouted at the Beetleblades and at the Creators and at the sky and the sun and at everything.

Another turn.

The smell of iron and salt lay in the air. Blood. His stomach revolted. 

“Newt! Newt, please! Newt!”

That day, a part of Alby died. He found Newt. Part of him.

The crumbled, broken, bruised shell of his best friend. 

Arms and legs spread in unnatural angles, blood pooling around him coming from his nose, mouth, eyes, several cuts. 

The gauze had been ripped off and lay on the opposite wall next to his backpack.

Alby stumbled, fell to his knees beside the mangled boy. Electricity running through his veins, his fingers twitching.

He was shaking, sobbing, his trembling hand reaching out to run through Newt's blood soaked hair. 

“Newt.”

It sounded like a declaration of death, Alby's gravelly voice hanging above them. 

Then Newt jerked, suddenly, letting out a gurgling scream, half conscious, probably and Alby felt a pang of relief and hated himself for that.

He took the boy in his arms and carried him.

Desperation had him run the right way. A miracle in the dark. Newt shivered in his arms. Fresh, warm blood soaked Alby's shirt.

At some point, Minho found them and helped Alby, not asking questions, just roughly grabbing the now unconscious blond boy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for
> 
> Referenced self harm  
> Implied suicide

Three days and three nights Newt didn't wake up. 

Michael had to greet the new boy that was send up in the Box on the second day because Alby would not leave Newt alone. And no one asked him to.

The Med-jacks came and went, guilt on their faces every time they realized they could do nothing. 

But Alby didn't blame them. 

Above all, he blamed himself.

He sould've known. The stargazing, the promise, the kiss, the smiles, it all had been fake.

Officially, Newt had been attacked by a Griever.

Only the Med-jacks and Alby knew. Maybe Minho, too. He'd seen Newt's wrists. He'd seen Alby cry and no one apart from Newt had ever seen the fierce leader cry before.

When Newt stirred in his bed, his eyelids fluttering open, Alby had his head rested next to Newt's stomach, drifting in and out of sleep.

“Al.” It sounded horrible. Hoarse voice, dry words.

Alby winced. 

“Newt!” he exclaimed, grabbing the boy's bruised yet not broken hand . 

He brought it up to his face, resting his forehead against their intertwined fingers before breathing kisses on each of Newt's knuckles. The blond boy just stared at him, blankly. Expressionless. Like he was still unconscious underneath the open eyes.

“Shuck, Newt, I thought I'd lost ya for good” Alby hiccuped, tears spilling over again. 

His eyes were sore from not sleeping the whole time and from crying

Newt's eyes bore into his. They seemed to say a thousand things but Alby couldn't make them out. Too silent. Too far away.

“Why am … I here?” Newt exhaled the words.

“I found ya. Carried ya out of the shuckin' Maze.”

New blinked, slowly, like it tired him to breathe. Maybe it did.

“Why would you?”

“Why would you?” Alby parroted. 

He didn't want to offend Newt. 

Not then. 

Not after he was barely there again. But the question remained. 

Why would Newt try to kill himself, after all they'd been through. Why would he kiss him when he knew he'd jump from the Maze wall the next day. Alby just couldn't wrap his head around it and it hurt.

Newt didn't answer. He'd fallen asleep again. 

\------

Newt woke up to Alby entering the room a few hours later. 

A sad smile screwed up the broken boy's face as his gaze fell upon Alby's hands.

“Mornin'” Alby said, his voice thick with sadness and something else. 

Hope, maybe. Possibly. A plea for forgiveness. 

Newt's lips curled into a weak grin, tearing up.

“Brought you some cough syrup.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for
> 
> Referenced suicide attempt

“Looks like it's all healin' pretty nicely” Clint announced. Alby felt like hovering a few inches above the ground. Good news had been rare since the incident.

Just a week before, the Med-jack had tried to prepare Newt that he would maybe never be able to walk again.

“I dunno if your spine's broken or just sprained and that leg looks terrible, quite frankly” Jeff had said with a sorry look on his face.

But now, Newt nodded. He looked alright, considering. His face had lost the violet and blue bruised galaxies covering it. Instead of gauze bandaging, Minho had brought leather wristbands, similar to his own. Newt had taking them graciously.

His eyes seemed clearer than Alby had ever seen them. Like, instead of tiny stars, there was now the whole moon in them, blinking back at him, when he looked at his best friend.

“I feel better” Newt said and Alby believed him a little. 

“Well, that's definitely a plus. Think we can begin trainin' your leg by tomorrow” Clint said with a smile brightening his features before he turned to the door. Someone knocked on it.

Without waiting for a response, Gally entered, his face red with anger.

“Listen, Albert. I know ya wanna stay with Newt and it's cute 'n' all but the shuckin' Glade needs a leader.”

As if to shelter Newt, Alby stepped in front of the injured, forcing Gally to look him square in the eye.

“Some of the Gladers – including me – think Michael should become leader – of course, only temporarily – until the two of ya are one hundred percent back in the game.” 

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, Alby a little taken aback, Clint apparently paralized.

“Shuck Gally” Newt coughed, sitting up on his elbows. The three the other boys turned to him, surprised. Gally hadn't even taken notice of Newt before.

Horror seemed to shadow his features. He looked terribly sorry, all of a sudden.

“What do they even bloody know? If you're all so concerned, tell 'em Alby'll be back tomorrow by sunrise.”

“I will. And he better be.” Gally's pride seemed to crumble though. He apparently had not expected someone to speak against his plan. Especially Newt.

“Oh and, Gally, don't think just cause ya call him Albert he'll respect ya more, alright? Now shuck off” Newt added sarcastically.

After a few more seconds of standing in the doorway, mouth opening and closing, Gally hurried off, looking utterly angry and confused but Alby made a mental note to apologize later. 

Mostly, he was excited about the fact that Newt had spoken so much and especially as it was to defend him. He felt warmth spread in his chest as he sat down on the bed where Newt made him some space.

“I'm gonna make sure he really tells 'em what he's supposed to, not his klunk plan” Clint excused and followed Gally.

“That was awesome, seriously” Alby laughed, as soon as the door fell shut behind the Med-jack.

Newt's ears turned red. If Alby focused, he could see him standing in the Glade instead of lying in white bedsheets.

“Yeah, can't have shuckin' Gally walk around like he knows everythin', right?”, the blonde responded.

“How about you do this more often?”

“Yell at Gally? I can do that -”

“No, I mean, help me out with Glade stuff. It's a shucking lot of responsibility and I could need someone to share it with.”

Newt's eyes widened. The sudden outburst of boldness seemed vanished, he looked almost shy and Alby felt his chest tighten a little.

“Like your second in command, or somethin'?”

“Exactly like my second in command. Ya know, followin' me around, makin' sure I don't shuck up too badly. Play Glade mother.”

“Shuck you” cursed Newt. But it had helped. He relaxed.

“I mean it, though.”

The boy seemed to think about the offer. He couldn't return to being a Runner. He would probably not be able to do any physically hard work either. And seeing as Alby also wanted to keep an eye on his best friend – or both – it seemed like the perfect idea. 

Unexpectedly, Newt's lips curled into a smile and his hand came up to Alby's face, cupping his cheek, running his thumb down his jawline. Alby felt like he was floating, leaned into the touch.

“Okay then. Second in command it is.”

“Good that” Alby said, eyes closed, exhaling a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Finally, things seemed to fall into some kind of order again.

“Good that” Newt agreed, guiding Alby's face down to his, kissing his lips for the first time since his attempt.

\------

It took two more months. 

His bones healed within the first, but the courage to get out of the Homestead took a lot of effort.

Newt had been relocated, back into his and Alby's room but apart from limping up and down the corridors to the bathroom and back, there wasn't much Newt did just then.

Alby was back as the leader, enjoying every time he saw Gally eyeing him suspiciously, when he carried food up the stairs for his injured friend.

He organized new jobs, Track-hoes, Bricknicks, Sloppers. There were about thirty of them now.

With the help of the Keepers, though, and the prospect of working side by side with his best friend soon, Alby managed pretty well.

And then, while Alby watched the Runners slip through the merely opening Doors, there was a hand grasping his. He turned around, facing Newt, leaning on a wooden stick, blinking at him, a smile spreading across his face.

“Heya, Al.”

“Mornin'. Lookin' good. How's the leg?”

Newt looked down at his leg. From all the injuries, it had been crushed the most. He'd told Alby that he wasn't sure but it most likely caught in the ivy when he had jumped, or something. It didn't matter.

“It's fine. It's nice bein' out here again.”

“You tell me. It's nice havin' ya back with me. Like, officially.”

“Shut up, slinthead.” Alby smiled as Newt elbowed him in the ribs while simultaneously rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.


	10. Chapter 10

Alby reckoned he'd been in the Glade for almost about a year and a half now. 

A new Greenie every month adding to the first group, minus those that had been lost. Whenever Alby thought back, bitterly, to George and Frank and Igor and even Mozart, his sadness was accompanied by the relief that so many names had not been crossed out. 

It was better, somehow. Despite it all, constantly having Newt by his side made things easier. 

Maybe it was Newt speaking up instead of him. Maybe it was a reassuring smile or a nod. Maybe it was Newt's slender fingers linking with his. Maybe it was the other blissfully kissing away his frown when they were alone.

It made Alby feel stronger and he needed that. He really did.

He didn't have to worry about Newt getting lost in the Maze anymore. About him not returning, willingly or not. 

He could just turn his head and would see the blond hair, the slight curve of his lips, the soft eyes. Hear his voice, feel his skin, taste his mouth.

It was reviving, like dead stars blinking back into life. 

And he wouldn't let just one day pass anymore without telling Newt just how much he meant to him.

“I need you” he said whenever Newt doubted his worth due to his limp, due to his troubled mind.

“I can't do this without ya” and “Please help me with this”.

And soft kisses, sweet touches and ginger words of admiration whenever they were alone, wrapping his arms around Newt's middle, pressing his lips on the other boy's, whispering that he would never leave him. 

And finally, Newt returned the promise.

“I'm not goin' anywhere” the taller boy said, pressing his body against Alby's in the empty conference room shoving the dark-skinned boy into the wooden wall. “I'm not leaving ya again. Ever.”

Alby clawed into Newt's hair, kissing his jaw, admiring the little sounds the younger boy made.

The golden sunrays fell through the gaps in the wooden walls, reminding him of when Newt had been sick in the hospice all those months ago. 

“Promise” Alby demanded softly between kisses.

“I promise, ya won't be able to get rid of me. Happily ever after, remember?”

Alby stirred, breathing against Newt's neck, shivering as the other's hand found its way under his shirt, hugging him even tighter. 

“Happily ever after” he agreed sweetly. Now, when the air turned to honey, he cherished it. He wasn't afraid of suffocating in it anymore because Newt would always lend him air from his own lungs.

Alby buried his face in the crook of Newt's neck, smiling against the other's skin.

\------

Because at some point, Newt became restless, Alby send him to work somewhere else, once in a while. 

Sometimes he helped out Zart and his “crew” like he called them, gardening or he would wash dishes with the Sloppers, prepare meals with Frypan and the other Cooks or gather herbs for the Med-jacks.

When one day only the Runners' job remained, Newt asked Alby to “kiss me until I don't feel like runnin' into that bloody Maze for good anymore” and it worried Alby.

He excused himself, as he had been talking to a bunch of Track-hoes and followed Newt suit. The blond boy guided him, not using the stick anymore but still limping heavily, around the Homestead and into the storage room, where they brought the cargo from the Box.

Only then, after having closed the door and turned on the poor light bulb that served as a ceiling light, he saw how heavily Newt was shaking, his breathing racked. 

“What's wrong?” Alby asked, helplessly trying to reach out to Newt with his hands but the other ducked his touches.

“The shuckin' shuck-faced Greenie Vlad – this is so stupid, Alby, I know, I know – he said he'd dare me to run the Maze cause he thinks he's shuckin' clever 'n' all and when I refused he, shuck, he said 'so that's why they crossed ya name out' and I went to … I went to the wall and, Alby, someone crossed out my bloody name!”

He didn't have to continue. Alby knew his friend well enough to imagine the drop of his stomach and the sudden feeling of worthlessness paired with the question of “maybe I should be dead, then” and he felt unbearably sorry for Newt.

But Alby wasn't crying. 

Instead, he did what Newt had asked of him, taking the other's hands, even when he tried to protest, and kissed him until there was no air left in both their lungs and again and again until Newt's tears dried and his hands stopped shaking and his lips were swollen and he finally responded to Alby's affection by leaning into it, closing his eyes, sighing.

And it was a subtle reminder for Alby that, however good Newt was the bad was only a heartbeat away.


	11. Chapter 11

Naturally, there were good days. And plenty of them, too. And Alby took everything he could get, hungrily.

When Newt woke up with a smile on his lips or even slipped with Alby under his covers before breakfast, he couldn't help but to get his hopes up. At least a little.

“Heya, Al” Newt murmured, stretching his arms and aching his back, turning towards the other boy.

The bags under his eyes implied he'd not slept well the last few nights. Nightmares. Alby had them too. But they were there for each other. When one of them began screaming or crying in their sleep, the other was sure to caress their face and hold their hand and kiss their forehead until both could resume to sleep peacefully.

It wasn't perfect. Not by a long shot.

But it worked. It all finally looked like working out.

Newt still was sick. Alby still felt crushed by the responsibility. But it was only one day in twenty good ones. Or thirty. And they managed. He told himself that every morning. Together, they managed.

“Mornin', Newt” Alby greeted back, sitting up in his bed, yawning, running a hand over his short hair. 

“Breakfast?” he then offered. 

Newt smiled in response, lingering in his bed for a few more seconds, probably enjoying the warmth and safety that a blanket provided before kicking it off and standing up to fetch his clothes from the floor.

Alby watched him putting on his favourite shirt, an old, eroded white one of Alby's with a little hood. When Newt was wrapping the leather wristbands around his arms, he finally noticed Alby's staring. 

“Stop that, shuckface. Get dressed, I don't want no cold scrambled eggs again.”

Alby shook his head, chuckled and then turned to putting on clothes and they went down to breakfast, playfully barging against each other, like magnets, like planets, dancing around but never really parting, always coming back again, linking their pinky fingers together.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for
> 
> lack of self care

The whole week Newt stayed with the Track-hoes under Zart's watch, planting tomatoes and carrots and picking apples from the trees.

Alby watched him from afar while he was talking to Minho. 

The Keeper was already late for his run but stubborn as he was, he didn't want to go without having told Alby whatever heavied his heart.

So he eventually returned his attention to the Asian boy, giving him a stern yet genuine look. One that Newt liked to point out and comment on with a mocking grin.

“Listen, Alby, we need more Runners. We're at least two short since you declared Vlad a Slopper after that thing with Newt – which I totally support, by the way, that slinthead can wash my dirty runnie undies for all eternity for all I care – but now there's only three of us left.”

He nodded. In his head, he was not as calm as he appeared, frantically trying to come up with a solution that would avoid sending completely inexperienced and unqualified boys into that dangerous labyrinth.

There was the Greenie, Zhang, that had arrived three weeks ago and not really proven good at anything yet. He remembered seeing the boy jog from the kitchen to the fields, carrying potatoes for almost an hour, though. 

And maybe the two largest groups, Builders and Cooks, could see if they had anyone they could afford to have trying out running.

It wasn't the best idea. Runners were naturals. Swift and strong and with lungs of iron and nerves of steal, but Minho was right. If they wanted to find a way out, they couldn't have only three boys out there in that who knows how big Maze.

Newt's words rang in his ears. He'd run everything and hadn't found an exit. Still, there was hope. As long as Minho didn't give up, Alby wouldn't as well. He refused to.

“Maybe you can see what ya can do with Zhang. Ask if Frypan or Gally has anyone to offer.” Even though Alby did his best to sell it as a good plan to Minho, the Runner didn't look impressed at all. Alby sighed.

“I'm sorry, Minho, but that's everythin' I can do for ya right now. Maybe we can try 'n' send a buggin' note to the Creators “few more Runners'd be nice, thanks”.”

Minho worried his bottom lip but nodded. “Yeah, alright. Although, I still can't help but miss Newt. The boy had some talent and quite a drive … Anyway, thanks Alby. Gotta dash now, I'll see what I can manage tonight.”

With a friendly pat on the shoulder, the dark-haired boy jogged towards the Doors and left Alby behind with the bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth like poison.

As he turned to farther watch Newt pick apples, he saw the boy sitting in the tree, leaning downwards, white shirt wrapped around his hip revealing an orange-red top, waving at him. He waved back and the bitterness was gone and replaced by honey and stars.

\------

“What're ya writin'” Newt asked, resting his head atop Alby's. He was sat at the table in one of the studies, writing the note they would put in the Box the next day.

Study was probably overly euphemistic for a small, hot room with an almost empty shelf, save for a few books about farming or building or sewing the Gladers had requested over time, a desk with a lamp and a few chairs. 

At least the studies provided quiet and solitude, which Alby found himself craving more and more with every passing minute in their prison.

Newt was in his underwear, hair tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep. Alby hadn't even had the time to think about going to sleep.

“Shopping list” Alby answered, groggily.

So far it read “bread; white, bread; brown, ice cream; vanilla, cereal; honey loops, fruits; oranges – grapes – pears – bananas, salt, sugar; brown, newbie; runner material”.

“Nice” Newt commented, sarcastically. “Runner material. Ya think they have those in store?”

“Shuck you” Alby grunted, letting his head fall back, kissing a startled Newt on the lips upside down. 

“That's gross, don't ever do that again” Newt said, barely containing a giggle as he took a step back, looking over the top disgusted.

Alby just shrugged, crossing out the part about the Newbie wish. As if the Creators would ever listen to them anyway. All those notes that had gone ignored. If it wasn't food, meds or clothes, it could very well not be written down at all.

“You look tired” Newt said, after a long pause in which Alby had added some seeds and food for the cattle to the list. “You know how late it is?”

“No and you don't either. Watches are for Runners only, still.”

“It's after nightfall, shuckface. Don't need a watch to tell ya it's way too late for ya to be workin' in here.”

“Let me just schedule the Sloppers for next week, 'kay?”

Newt looked offended, somehow and Alby sighed, defeated. “Okay, might as well do that tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you mean later today.”

“Whatever” Alby said, annoyed by Newt's motherly behaviour, turning to the desk one last time before clicking off the desk lamp and standing up to follow Newt upstairs, who looked pretty proud of himself as he took Alby's hand and they left.

Alby had a tendency to work too much and put caring about himself behind everything else. That's why he needed Newt as much as the blond needed him.

Even though it tended to annoy at times, he needed the reminders to sleep and to divide the work instead of doing it all in one go. It wasn't like when Newt fell into one of his phases, where he forgot to talk or to stand up or to breathe slowly but more a state of neglecting anything besides his responsibilities as leader.

Newt waited on the edge of his own bed until Alby was undressed and tucked in, suddenly feeling weighed down by the exhaustion . Only then, the second in command lay down as well. Their beds were on the opposites sides of the small room, yet close enough for them to see the other even in the dim lights of the stars.

“Hey, Newt?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

The other's face turned soft, his eyes big and beaming at Alby with such affection that it almost to set Alby's heart on fire.

“No problem, man. Now sleep. Long day ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love me love-sick idiots


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for  
> referenced suicide

Zhang was no Runner material, Minho informed Alby.

“Maybe the greenbean's, though. Had quite the time catchin' him as he'd darted off.”

With the last cargo Edgar had arrived. A pale, tall, muscular boy that had tried to run away as soon as Michael and Ben had heaved him out of the Box.

“Probably” Alby said. “Soon as he gets outta the Slammer he's all yours.”

“Thanks, Alby.” Minho's smile faded and his face turned serious. “We really do need all the help we can get. We've been here a shucking year and a half, now? We've gotta be close to solving that buggin' Maze, man.”

“Guess so” Alby meant, with a little less optimism than Minho showed. He then went to inform the other Runners about Edgar so Alby returned to his work, which was looking through their stocks. It was to see if anything was missing because Frypan suspected one of the Gladers stealing food, which put everyone in danger, as supplies only came once a month, strictly rationed. 

Thankfully, Newt joined up with him half an hour later because there was a lot of stuff in the storage room.

“What's missin', exactly? Frypan say anythin' more specific?” the blond boy asked, as he was looking through a box of fresh fruits.

“Handed me this list with things he thought might've been unnaturally decreased but, shuck, it's a long list.”

Newt, rolling his eyes, took the list out of Alby's hands and, to the older boy's shock, ripped in half.

“What the shuck, Newt -?”

“Relax, just halving the work” he laughed, handing back the bottom half of the list. And so they inspected the jars of vegetables and bags of meat and packages of cereal and everything looked alright until Alby came to the third to last bullet point on his half of the list.

“There's a few breadrolls missin'. Says here there should be three boxes á fifty buns and one with twelve. But there's the fifty ones and here's ten.”

Newt had stopped counting a bunch of potatoes and headed over to his friend, looking into the carboard box of breadrolls suspiciously.

“Then better put a bloody detective on the shoppin' list because we ain't gonna find anyone if we haven't got any clues.”

“You're right” said Alby. “Someone could hide someone in here for the night and see if the burglar comes back, though.”

Newt scrunched up his nose and Alby eventually breathed a kiss onto Newt's lined forehead, having to stand on his tippy toes. The light bulb flickered a few times.

“That'd be me, then” announced the leader.

“No way” Newt barked, suddenly sounding angry. “You barely slept at all for how long? Two weeks? Not a chance you're gonna stay awake for a whole night in the cold. I'm doin' it.”

“You're shuckin' not!” Alby argued, frustration boiling up inside of him. 

He'd told Newt he could play Glade mother if he wanted but he had to stop overprotecting him. He was capable of making decisions on his own. He was the leader after all, now, wasn't he?

“You just don't want me doin' anythin' on my own, do ya?” Newt spat, his face reddening. It was maddening to fight with him and he hated it because it was ridiculous but Alby was too wound up, too sleep deprived, too angry. He was always on edge. Sometimes it took two missing breadrolls to send him falling down.

“Damn right I don't. I am not too keen on findin' ya here the next mornin' hanging from the bugging ceiling!”

Newt took a step backwards, as if Alby's words had physically slapped him in the face. He looked scandalized, eyes wide with disbelief, fingers stimming against one another. 

“So, basically, ya just don't trust me except for to hurt myself?”

All anger had gone from Newt's voice, replaced by coldness and bitterness. Suddenly, as if waking up from a dream, Alby felt terribly guilty. 

“I'm sorry, Newt, that's not what I meant, and you know that -”

“No, apparently I don't. How would I, with all my thoughts just occupied figuring out how to shuckin' off me?” 

The words were pooling up inside of the storage closet, making it hard to breathe. 

Not like the tranquil honey he'd gotten used to. More like boiling water.

Before Alby was able to say anything else, Newt stormed past him and out of the storage room, slamming the door shut behind him, sending the light bulb to flicker a few more times, repeatedly dipping Alby in darkness and bright light.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for 
> 
> Implied death

Alby didn't return to their room that night. Rather, he stayed in the closet room, hiding behind a damp bag of potatoes, shivering, but not from the cold. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid” he told himself, his words white clouds in the chill air. The light bulb hadn't come back to life after it had went out shortly after Newt left. Bitterly, Alby thought the darkness was fitting, right then.

When the door opened a few hours later, Alby, half asleep at that time expected – hoped to see Newt. 

But he stayed ducked and crouched, listening. Silent footsteps on the wooden planks. The sound of carboard on wood, a hand in the breadrolls. 

Alby skidded over a little, peaking out from his hiding spot, trying to see anything but even with the door still open and the moonlight flooding in, he could only make out a dark silhouette. There he was, the thief.

The second the boy left Alby jumped to his feet and slipped through the leant door. He caught a glimpse of someone disappearing around the corner of the Homestead. 

The leader broke into a sprint.

Without much of a thought, he leaped as soon as he could see the other boy in front of him, crashing into the Glader, dragging him to the ground alongside Alby.

\------

“There are rules” Alby's voice echoed from the walls behind him, sounding strong in his ears.

He rounded a pinioned boy on the ground. A young, dark-skinned Asian boy, sobbing silently.

“Never harm another Glader. Rule one. Y'all may think, stealin' a few supplies isn't such a big deal, right? But it is! We get everything rationed. The Creators send us just enough for everyone to get by without starving. No extras.”

He looked everyone in the face as he talked. Some nodded, agreeing. Others looked away as he faced them, ashamed, maybe, because they hadn't thought about that. Because not everyone knew how well planned everything had to be in the Glade. Newt looked him square in the eye. They still hadn't talked to each other after the incident in the storage room.

“Without order, there is chaos” Alby continued, his back to the open Maze, the thief to his feet.

“The Council has made their minds up. Zhang, you're banished.”

He was fourteen, at most, hair down to his shoulders, crying his eyes out as the Gladers closed their circle. They had put a leather collar around Zhang's neck. Attached to it, a long stick. After Mozart picking up quite the fight, they'd invented it to shove the banished into the Maze without endangering any other Glader. 

The sound of the Walls beginning to close drowned out everything. 

“Now!” Alby commanded, the Gladers taking the stick, giving it a push. Zhang was now kicking his legs and screaming.

“No, please, please, no, please, you can't do this! Alby, please, I swear I will never steal again, I promise, I promise, Alby, listen! Please!”

It looked cruel, the young Glader being driven backwards, stumbling towards the merciless stone maze, begging for his life. Like an animal. Alby looked the other way.

Just before the Doors slammed shut, they detached the stick from the collar and retrieved it, the boy's terrified screams lingering in the air, still. 

There where a few more moments of shocked silence, only interrupted by the occasional moan of a Griever and screams from Zhang. Then it stopped. 

A few Sloppers, apparently friends of Zhang's, muffled their crying with their hands and slowly the Gladers scattered into smaller groups and walked off, eventually leaving only Alby, the Keepers and Newt behind.

Gally was the first to recover. “Well, then. Let's just hope this set things straight.”

No one laughed. Zart sighed deeply.

“Anders, your boys can do the honours tomorrow.”

The short white-blond boy nodded. Him and the other Baggers wouldn't only cross out Zhang's name but also bury whatever remains the Runners would find the next day. An unrewarding job but it had to be done. There had to be order even in death.

“We free to go?” Gally asked, tapping his foot on the ground. “Got some work to do.”

“Yeah, dismissed” Alby said. Then everyone was on their way. Apart from Newt. 

“It's been half a week, I guess we can stop this now” he heard his friend's voice behind him and turned around to see Newt lean against the Maze doors wearing his old white shirt again for the first time since their argument. He hadn't even noticed before.

“I'm sorry, Newt. I really am. I was a shuckfaced shuck. I was shucking overtired and you were right. I shouldn't have said those things. They're not true but still. Shouldn't have said them.”

Newt still looked a little hurt but he took a step toward Alby, flashing him a lopsided smile but his eyes looked sad.

“I know ya didn't mean it. Even though you'd have all bloody reason to. I can't expect ya to trust me after what I did. Not if I don't work to earn that trust.”

“You don't have to -”

His words were cut short by Newt passionately pressing his lips onto Alby's and he noticed how much he'd missed the warmth of it, and the taste.

“Come on. Let's go to bed. Ya can't sleep in the armchair in the study forever, now, can ya?”

\------

It wasn't their last banishment. 

A mere two months in the Glade a boy named William ran into the Maze – prohibited for anyone that wasn't a Runner. 

Will understood. He accepted the banishing, willingly. It didn't make things any easier.

Winston had voted against the banishment and spent the night leaned against the Doors, Bark curled up in his lap, crying on occasion. Chances were, William had been Winston's little brother. The resemblance had been striking.

Winston had not been his friend but a close acquaintance, someone Alby had trusted with decisions far beyond the daily routine. Now, the Keeper of the Slicers only spoke to him if absolutely necessary and always in a cold, factual manner. 

Maybe they could have been friends. Maybe he could have reconsidered banishing William. If it weren't for the rules. If it weren't for the responsibility weighing on Alby every second of every day, a globe on his back, like Atlas.

And with every compromise and every crises he spiralled deeper and deeper into self-loathing. He had begun to wonder, if perhaps his own banishment was the only option to ease the tension that had started to build up in the Glade. Maybe an act of chaos would ultimately restore order.

The only one that seemed to be completely on his side remained to be his second in command, glaring at everyone who so much as looked at Alby. The only constant. The only safe place.

“You said yourself,” Newt said, “the shanks need order. If you're not keeping them in line, who else will? They'd be riotin', shucking civil war.”

Alby breathed in the smell of Newt's hair. They lay on Alby's bed, Newt curled up against his side, head resting on top of his chest. He felt his heartbeat mix with his own.

“I need you" Alby said, exhaling deeply. Newt snuggled his face into the crook of Alby's neck, lazily nosing his chin and jawline.

“Yeah, bet ya do" he chuckled, before adding more seriously “need you too, slinthead.”

Alby felt like he should say 'I love you' but he didn't. 

He didn't know why. 

Maybe he was scared that Newt would reject him. Maybe he was scared he wouldn't. 

What would he do with the knowledge of Newt loving him? It would be unbearable.

He closed his eyes. He imagined saying it nonetheless, recklessly destroying every chance for one to live without the other. Bathed in darkness inside and out, Alby slipped off into sleep to the song of their hearts and to the other Glader drawing circles on his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as long as they always make up they're gonna be alright ... or are they ...
> 
> // also yes i know it's literally been 12 years since i updated but i'm back now no worries


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for  
> referenced suicidal thoughts

“Shucking” Newt hiccuped. Alby had both his hands clasped tightly around Newt's to keep them from shaking. Outside, the sun shone carelessly in a bright blue sky as if the world wasn't breaking into pieces below them. 

“It's been … half a year, Alby,” he croaked, “half a – half a bloody year I've not been thinkin' about it. I've been doin' well I … shuck …”

Alby, helpless, kissed the back of Newt's cold hands, trying to stay calm himself. 

“You're still so good, Newt. You're doing so good, ” he sing-songed, Newt leaned heavily against him, his whole body a mess. He let go of Newt's hands to wrap an arm around the poor boy's shoulders.

“I'm so sorry” Alby said. “I'm so sorry.”

Newt just clung to his shirt, sobbing into his shoulder. 

“I am so … so frustrated. I can't be reduced again to … this.”

“You're not reduced to anythin', shuckface. You're still Newt, nothing can ever reverse all you've achieved over the last months.”

Either Newt ignored him or he couldn't answer. Alby felt repulsed by his own uselessness so much he had to close his eyes and count to ten. Then he said: “Nothing can reverse us.”

That seemed to work, momentarily putting Newt on ease. He was still tearing up but now Alby felt safe enough to kiss the top of Newt's head without scaring the boy away.

“… okay” Newt whispered hoarsely. Then, Alby was just rocking the boy back and forth until he fell asleep.

 _I love you_ , Alby thought. _I love you so much. And I am so sorry I can't do anything about it all._

\------

Alby woke up, his back hurting from having slept leaning against the bed. Newt was gone. He felt his absence like a void.

Before he could even scramble to his feet or build up any panic, the door swung open, revealing the tall blond wearing a dark gray long-sleeve.

“Heya, Al. Thought you'd like some breakfast?” 

In his hands he was balancing two plates with stacks of pancakes drenched in syrup and on his face he was balancing a smile and it was lovely. "It's not cough syrup but syrup, still."

Alby took one of the plates from Newt, planting a kiss on the other's cheek as he went and sat down on top of the bed, sliding back until he was leaning against the wall.  
Newt sat down close beside him, already munching on one of the pancakes. 

They didn't mention the previous night. Alby would've if he'd thought it necessary but Newt seemed to genuinely be okay and it warmed Alby's insides like a miniature sun.

They had finished their meal and been cuddling wordlessly but when they heard the Doors opening they left the Homestead because it was their duty.

Alby went to discuss reparations on the Homestead with the Builders and Bricknicks while Newt joined up with Zart to help pick peas.

Despite it having been weeks since the last banishment, Alby still felt the other Glader's gazes following him around, heard their hushed whispers.

Alby went to the study as soon as he could, locking the door behind him, leaving the light out. In the cold dark air he felt his skin prickling. 

He spent hours crouched over empty paper, unable to form thoughts let alone words and eventually abandoned his post, frustrated. But he tried not to think about it when Newt cradled him in his long arms that night, placing sweet kisses on his neck and shoulders, giving him the affection he craved but was too afraid to ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((((the calm before the storm))))))


	16. Chapter 16

Alby woke up, his back hurting from having slept leaning against the bed. Newt was gone. He felt his absence like a void.

Before he could even scramble to his feet or build up any panic, the door swung open, revealing the tall blond wearing a dark grey long-sleeve of Alby's.

“Hiya, Al. Thought you'd like some breakfast?” 

In his hands he was balancing two plates with stacks of pancakes drenched in syrup and on his face he was balancing a smile and it was lovely.

Alby took one of the plates from Newt, planting a kiss on the other's cheek as he went and sat down on top of the bed, sliding back until he was leaning against the wall.

Newt sat down close beside him, already munching on one of the pancakes. 

They didn't mention the previous night. Alby would've if he'd thought it necessary but Newt seemed to genuinely be okay and it warmed Alby's insides like a miniature sun.

They finished their meal and enjoyed each other's presence wordlessly but when they heard the Doors opening they left the Homestead because it was their duty.

Alby went to discuss reparations on the Homestead with the Builders and Bricknicks while Newt joined up with Zart to help pick peas.

Despite it having been weeks since the last banishment, Alby still felt the other Glader's gazes following him around, heard their hushed whispers.

Alby went to the study as soon as he could, locking the door behind him, leaving the light out. In the cold dark air he felt his skin prickling. 

He spent hours crouched over empty paper, unable to form thoughts let alone words and eventually abandoned his post, frustrated. But he tried not to think about it when Newt cradled him in his long arms that night, placing sweet kisses on his neck and shoulders, giving him the affection he craved but was too afraid to ask for.

\------

The days were blurring together again. Waking up, working, eating, talking, sleeping. Nothing out of the ordinary, just blue blue sky and starlit nights.

Nights spent listening to Newt breathe in his sleep. Nights spent in dreamless bliss.

And then, out of nowhere, Julio didn't make it back in time. 

Suddenly, interrupting a perfectly blurred day, there were all the Runners, screaming at the Maze in terror.

Alby dashed forward and came to a halt just as the Doors began to shut noisily.

“Julio!” yelled Ben, using his hands in an act of desperation to amplify the name of the boy. “Julio! Julio!” choired the rest of the Runners, Minho's voice failing him.

Alby's heart picked up speed. His hands itched with the wish to do something, anything. He didn't hear Newt appear at his side, grave finality on his face as the Doors slammed shut. 

Shocked silence fell over the group of boys. Somehow, the young boy with the bright smile and fantastic sense of humour, had not made it in time. Now he was trapped in the Maze with the nightmarish Grievers.

Just as Alby felt reality slip through his fingers and darkness take its place, Newt put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly, somehow getting him back, anchoring him to the Glade again.

“Julio” said one of the Runners and it was a declaration of death and Julio's star blinked out of existence permanently.

\------

The procedure was fast, bleak, Gally crossing out the name, Alby doing his best to say something, Minho cursing the Creators and the Maze and the Grievers and life and everyone silently mourning and then they were gone.

Once more, Alby was struck by how meaningless a boy's death in the Glade really was. How pointless. Everyone would just move on with their lives and eventually, no one would remember to think about Julio. Or Mozart. Or any of the kids that had been there and now weren't.

Guilty, Alby put his face in his hands for a moment, relishing the coolness of his fingers against his hot cheeks and eyelids. Everything weighed so heavily on his shoulders. If the the other's blamed him or he himself, he couldn't distinguish those two anymore.

Newt had left together with the Runners and it made him terribly sad that he was angry at Newt for putting grieving with the Runners he wasn't even part of anymore before comforting him.

He could have followed the blonde and snuck away with him. But he didn't.

Feeling the most selfish he'd felt in a long time, Alby instead retreated into his study and woke up the next morning with bloodshot eyes from crying and a terribly aching back from sleeping in a wooden chair.

\------

He skipped breakfast because the emptiness in his stomach just added to the one in his chest and went straight to helping out the builders adding to the chicken coop. 

He didn't even say his usual good lucks to the Runners and didn't check on Newt because a part of him wished for just losing himself in the physical work, not having to worry about the fragile boy for once. 

Just thinking about his own well-being and thinking about how he could cope with losing Gladers all the time and staring at the others' faces and probably, eventually, burying someone close to him.

Just once. Just once he allowed himself to be selfish and hoped, pleaded it would go unnoticed.

His wish wasn't granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dysfunctional children


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for
> 
> referenced mental illness  
> death and suicide mention  
> suicidal attempt

“Shuck you” yelled Newt, slamming his fist against the wall.

“You're so full of yourself” countered Alby. “Does it not occur to you that I do not have to be – or want to be – there just for you all the shucking time?”

Newt's face was reddened with anger, his eyes full of exploding stars, ice and fire at the same time.

“Shut up” he then growled, clenching his hands into fists. “You have no idea what you're saying.”

“Oh, is that so?” mocked Alby, feeling challenged by Newt's sudden air of indifference. “I have no idea? No idea what it feels like to be hopeless? To give up? Well, I've got some news for ya, then!”

He was trembling, his skin crawling with anxiety and a fierceness he had never been good at fully controlling. Before he realized what was happening, he'd grabbed a half full glass of water from the nightstand and thrown it to the ground, shattering it into thousands of sharp, sparkling pieces, making Newt jump.

“You're so shuckin' pathetic! What, you gonna cry every time I don't kiss you good morning? What if it was me, huh? What if I had died last night, huh? What would you do? What would you do without me to calm you down every single time when you're havin' one of your … your bugging episodes?”

“Stop.” 

But Alby didn't hear Newt talk. He heard nothing over the blood rushing in his ears. His vision became red hot rage. He was too caught up in it. 

A very weak yet rational voice at the very back of his mind tried to tell him that he was overworked and tired out and that he was projecting all that bottled up pain and frustration and guilt toward Newt not because he deserved it, but solely because he was there.

It was unfair to blame Newt for his mental state. It was unfair to remind him that he needed Alby and it was unfair to force him to imagine the unimaginable, the one thing Alby himself feared the most. Being alone in this sick place, without the one he needed the most.

The one he was currently trying to push into the abyss he'd spend the last year pulling him away from.

“How would you cope if it was my name being erased from the wall, Newt?”

“Stop it” said Newt, his voice surprisingly firm despite the redness vanishing from his face.

But Alby wasn't finished yet. 

“You would've been dead and buried without me, already” spat Alby.

Something changed. Something shifted within Newt. His posture seemed to slacken, his gaze clouded and the words that fell from his lips were so morbid and dark that it was almost enough, then. Almost enough to wake Alby from his blind rage.

“That what you want, then” said Newt dryly. “That you don't have to worry about me anymore?”

Spots in Alby's vision cleared, letting in the danger that was suddenly all around him. Something alarmed him and was slowly melting away his fury.

“I don't … know” he answered, not sure what the question had been.

It felt surreal to him, like a dream. He didn't know where he was or what had lead to this but something was very off and Alby tasted the danger like metal in the air.

“All right” said Newt and in one swift motion he crouched down, took a shard of the silver-blue glass. He ripped off his leather wristbands. Alby felt the alarm now, in every cell of his body, vibrating, shrilling. 

He crashed hard into Newt, knocking the boy off his feet and hard onto the ground, straddling him. There was blood. Newt's face looked blank, his fist clenched around the piece of glass, blood drippng on the floor.

And that was finally enough for Alby to snap out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what am i doing to my children


	18. Chapter 18

None of the apologies would be enough to reverse what Alby had done to Newt. 

After what happened, Alby had practically jumped away from his friend, looking at his own hands in terror unable to speak. Weakly, Newt had crawled onto his bed, the shard of glass still in his hand.

Alby knelt by Newt's bedside, his forehead resting on the white mattress while spilling out: “I'm sorry”. Newt didn't so much as flinch.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry.”

No reaction. 

“I don't know what happened, I don't know why I did that but I hate it I hate myself. None of it was true, none of it was true, Newt. Please, don't believe it was true.”

It was the middle of the night and Alby had never felt so awake. All of it came crashing in on him, what he'd said, what he'd done and above all, what Newt had almost done.

Tears were streaming down Alby's face. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Why he had lost himself so easily in rage.

“I don't ask you to forgive me” Alby said, his voice shaking as he stared at the wooden floor. “You can't, ever, because I won't, too. But -”

“I don't blame you.” His words were almost too silent to make out and even then, Alby didn't believe to have actually heard them. His heart stopped.

“You were right, I should not take you for granted.” He stiffened, and Alby lifted his head to see Newt's back still turned to him.

“I know, I am a burden and I know, you have problems on your own. Sometimes, it's just a little harder for me to realize that.”

He still just stared at Newt's back, imagining the other's face, pale and vacant.

“You can't forgive me, you can't” said Alby, through a new wave of tears.

“I don't.”

He turned around, looking tired and exhausted, the piece of glass in his bloodstained hand.

“But I also can't blame you.”

He flattened his hand and Alby took the shard of glass out of Newt's palm, shuddering, as he felt the blood, sticky and wet.

“I'm sorry” said Alby, once more and he truly meant it. Newt just closed his eyes. “I know.”

\-------

Alby was certain now, that the opposite of love wasn't hate. It was indifference.

Because the way Newt left the Homestead the next day, wordlessly yet smiling, felt like a sixty feet drop onto stone.

Maybe for Newt, Alby was just not what Newt was for him. He was just warm hands, soft lips and sweet words whenever he needed it. Nothing that couldn't be shrugged off. 

He stayed inside the whole day, locked in his study because he wouldn't bear seeing Newt joking around as if nothing had happened, not addressing the injuries on his palm. 

Trying his hardest to stay focused on his work, scheduling and planning and scheming but it always took mere minutes for Alby to lose himself in guilt and self-loathing and the fact that he might have lost Newt for good. The heartbreak made him sick to the stomach.

After doing his best and scribbling down a messy meal plan for the next week, Alby stood up and left, not bothering to turn off the lights. Because what did it matter, anyway. Nothing mattered apart from the hole in his chest and the dizziness in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> happy end or not you'll see!!


	19. Chapter 19

He was more than taken aback when he entered, what he took now to be only his room, and found Newt, sitting on his bed, legs crossed under him.

“Newt” he let the word drop off his lips before he could stop himself.

“Hey, Al.”

“I don't understand” and “Why would you come back” and “After all I did and said last night” crammed up his mouth and lungs and he coughed, instead, closing the door and leaning against it, heavily. 

Newt blinked. He looked confused.

“I told ya, I don't blame ya, remember?” said the blond boy, making a vague gesture with his injured hand. It was wrapped in clean, white gauze.

Alby closed his eyes, his heart beating groggily in his chest. He could never fathom Newt. When he thought he'd figured the boy out, he took an unexpected turn and fell apart at the wrong edges and Alby just wasn't fast enough to predict him.

He was like the ocean, unruled and vast and deep and dangerous, pulling in and out, tides and wind and storm. It was a romanticized version but Alby liked it better than admitting that he just didn't seem to be important enough to Newt to get all those things explained.

He hadn't heard Newt stand up and walk over but he felt the other boy's warm breath on his face before he pressed his lips against his own.

The shorter boy leaned forward, his hands taking Newt by the middle, feeling the other breathe.

“I don't understand” Alby gasped, pressing his forehead against Newt's, who had to bend down a little. He was smiling.

“You really don't, shuckface?”

Newt had his hands linked together at the back of Alby's neck, warm against his skin. He chuckled, a sound like the impersonated warmth of the sun. 

“No” said Alby, truthfully. Confusion and frustration stung in his eyes and he inhaled shakily. To his surprise, Newt just kept smiling and shook his head, still pressed against the other's.

“I need you, you were absolutely right. I'm not whole, haven't been for a bloody long time but you fix it. I don't know how or why but it's the truth.”

Alby blinked away a tear. He didn't deserve Newt's forgiveness and understanding but at the same time he craved it like air and water and light.

“You make me alright, Alby” husked Newt, nudging Alby's cheek with his nose. A simple, innocent gesture that sent sparks down Alby's spine.

Alby had always thought Newt to be the one to express himself more openly than him but now he understood, that Newt as well had been hiding how much he actually needed Alby. Out of fear. Out of embarrassment. Out of pride. Alby didn't want to know. He didn't need to know.

“I need you too, Newt.” 

He was at his most vulnerable. Because saying it out loud meant he had to accept he was not strong enough to manage it on his own. That he needed just as much affection and reassurance as Newt did. Maybe more, sometimes.

And he knew he would break and crack as well, he would fight with and against Newt and Newt would tower above him like a wave and crash down on him. But he accepted it. He accepted that life would never be perfect. 

They were kids, trapped in a giant Maze. 'Alright' was the best shot they had.

And Alby had all those words, suddenly, wanted to tell Newt that he made his heart jump and fall with him. That he was the moon for him, his sun and his stars and he wanted to spend every second of their damned, imprisoned life by his side.

But all those things, all those praises and pleads stayed unspoken.

And yet, they were heard.

“Together, then?” asked Newt.

“Together” confirmed Alby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, for everyone that's read this story!!  
> this fanfiction actually means a lot to me and i'm glad that it seems to resonate with people. i am very grateful for every little bit of reassurance i have experienced over the course of writing and publishing this.
> 
> also i apologize for taking /months/ to upload this last chapter. i was scared, that it wouldn't be good enough an ending for this journey. this is my first real multi-chaptered public fanfiction and i care a lot about it. so, apologies again, but i do feel like, after editing and re-writing this bit over and over again (and everything else as well!!) i am finally somewhat happy with the result.
> 
> and most importantly, i am finished.
> 
> thanks again  
> and i'll see you around when i publish my next nalby piece (which will be in the near future, actually!)


End file.
